Final Musings
by KiyaNamiel
Summary: Angsty drabbles on characters from the Silmarillion who died. Character death warnings and general tissue-boxes. Will accept requests.
1. Amras

**I was in an angsty mood and just came up with these drabbles. Don't read unless you're ready with a box of tissues or an iron constitution. Sad feels, even though they're short. All are under 150 words.**

Amrod

Burns. Amrod never liked fire after that. Or heat of any sort, for that matter. It would make him shiver, and feel as cold as he imagined the Helcaraxë was.

Even when his Father finally came to the Halls of Mandos, as Amrod knew he would, he stayed away from him, for the simple reason that his father burned.

The flame imperishable was hot. Scorching.

And he didn't like it.

He remembered his death very well. The pain of slowly catching aflame, blisters forming, skin blackening, eyes blanking and in general just... Pain.

The screams of the dying and the afraid ringing in his ears, and his own shrieks of pain as he was consumed. It haunted him.

He never liked fire, after that. It burned.


	2. Beleg

Beleg

He should have listened.

He didn't hate the sword. He didn't hate Turin. How could he? It was his best friend.

But he should have listened, anyway.

He had been warned about that sword, hadn't he? By a Maia, no less. And his queen, on top of that.

But he didn't regret his death. Turin fulfilled his destiny. He fulfilled his.

He still should have listened.

It wasn't for nothing. His death. It had been for a noble purpose, dying for the sake of his dearest heart-brother.

But why hadn't he listened?

He missed his bow.

He should have listened.


	3. Ecthelion

Ecthelion

He never noticed how cold his fountain was before. Maybe it was just his imagination. Or maybe it was because of the heat of Gothmog.

Elves never got cold unless in extreme conditions. The feeling was very odd, to someone like him who had rarely ever been cold.

Sounds muted, the water roared in his ears, drowning all else out. His eyes slowly slid shut against the sting of the water.

He had always loved water. And diamonds. It was only fitting that he should die so close to them. He loved his fountain.

As if in farewell to their beloved lord, the water waved him one last goodbye in the glittering of the surface from the sunbeams, like thousands of tiny diamonds winking at him.

He was so, unutterably cold.


	4. Maeglin

**this was a request by Elleth of Mossflower, so it's dedicated to her! Enjoy... Or not. XP**

Maeglin

"You are just like him."

"I AM NOT MY FATHER!"

Was he? No, he tried to convince himself, no he wasn't.

Wind whistled through his ears. It howled obscenities at him, ripped and clawed at him, whining and snarling like dogs scrabbling for a bone.

Pain ricocheted through his body, but he could not even scream as he heard the dulled, sickening crack that flared to life where he had hit the stone. He did not care.

He was not his father. He hadn't done the heinous deeds of his sire.

The second thud and crack mocked him, as though whipping him in scolding for a wrong answer like he were an elfling to be corrected. Perhaps he was.

The last thud echoed through the mountains as a final death toll. A final, cruel applause from the spectating stone. Traitor.

He was not his father. But Maeglin died like him.


	5. Fingolfin

**This one was a request by gingerrogers12345. Thank you, Rogers, for your lovely comment! So glad you liked. Hope you enjoy this one. I tried to keep his thoughts in character. Please enjoy... Or not. **

Fingolfin

His breath came in rattles. It was painful, and he could see Melkor standing over him, mace brandished high in one dark hand.

But he was not afraid. He had done the damage already, and he was satisfied. His only regret was his sons.

How he had loved them. He hoped they wouldn't be too sad over him. He had done his duty.

He could feel his lungs collapsing. His bones broken. The howling of the air as the final stroke fell. The very wind seemed to be crying out in defeat and despair.

Cruel laughter echoed in his ears. But he was not afraid. He would leave knowing that Melkor would never forget him. And his face held one last smile.

Melkor could never think of that smile without shivering.


	6. Finrod

**My good friend Eryniel Alasse requested a Drabble on Findárato Arafinwion... So I decided that it was high time I do one on my favorite elven King. :) Please enjoy... Or not! Hannon lle, Mellon nîn!**

Finrod Felagund

Eyes. Eyes in the dark. Red. Black.

Colors melded together in his eyes, congealing until everything had gone utterly dark.

He tried to ignore the weeping of his human friend. Ironical, that he should be the one to die, not the mortal. But he regretted nothing.

And he managed a small smile, despite that pain wracked his frame. After all, he was going home. To family. To loved ones.

His song still echoed around in his mind, resounding in his heart and bringing some semblance of comfort to his weary feä.

He would miss his friend.

"Amarië, beloved, I'm coming home. Ammë, Atto, I'm coming home. Namaarië, Beren, my friend..."

And exhausted, Beren fell asleep on his savior's still breast.


	7. Glorfindel

**Glorfindel**

Yellow.

It was the only color he could see now, yellow and orange and red. The whole world seemed to pass by him slowly, and the sensation of falling only vaguely registered in his dulled senses.

His hand still firmly grasped his sword, his training stuck firmly in his head. He could survive as long as he had his sword with him. He would die with his sword in his hand, and he'd be a houseless feä before he let go of it.

Pity he hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to Ecthelion before he threw himself into what he knew was his final fight. But even as he had, he knew that he wouldn't regret it. Then all he'd known was red, and black, and yellow, and orange, and _pain_.

His eyes slowly closed as he slowly gave himself up to the call of Mandos, battered and broken. One last scream of defiance and victory escaped his lips and tattered throat, and an answering roar from the Balrog.

_Massad hi Loth Valthen e-Gondolin?_

* * *

_The last line is a line from the fictional 'Lament of Glorfindel' written by Fiondil. It is translated as 'Where now the Golden flower of Gondolin?' This drabble was 176 words, and dedicated to Sophia the Scribe, as this was her request._

_Here is the full version of it, along with the translation, again owned by Fiondil._

"Dannassen —

a naur a morchant dhannasser na nin.

Massâd hi Loth Valthen e-Gondolin?

Massâd hi megil e-gallon?

Massâd hi Glorfindel veren?"

"Nan îa dhannassem —

callon a choth —

na Ngûr a Dúaith ui.

Massâd hi Loth Valthen e-Gondolin?

Massâd hi megil e-gallon?

Massâd hi Glorfindel veren?

Nan Annûn fae nîn róviel

rhaw nîn gaeda hi nu chaudh

nuin nîn vithrin e-Beleriand varad.

Dan adguion, gwenniel,

a boe enni ista:

Am man manadh?"

I fell —

and fire and shadow fell with me.

Where now the Golden Flower of Gondolin?

Where now the hero's sword?

Where now brave Glorfindel?

Into the abyss we fell —

hero and enemy —

into Death and Shadows everlasting.

Where now the Golden Flower of Gondolin?

Where now the hero's sword?

Where now brave Glorfindel?

Into the West my spirit having flown,

My body lies now under a burial mound,

'neath the grey waters of doomed Beleriand.

But I live again, having died,

and I must know:

For what fate?


End file.
